歌曲 | Internal Exile |
歌手 | Fish |
专辑 | Internal Exile |
作词 : Boult, Dick, Simmonds | |
(dick/boult/simmonds) | |
I saw a blue umbrella in princes street gardens | |
Heading out west for the lothian road | |
An evening news stuffed deep in his pocket | |
Wrapped up in his problems to keep away the cold | |
Grierson's spirit haunts the dockyards, | |
Where the only men working are on | |
Documentary crews, | |
Shooting film as the lines get longer, | |
As the seams run out, as the oil runs dry. | |
Chorus: hey there laddie, internal exile! | |
When will you realise we've got to let go? | |
Hey there lassie, internal exile! | |
When will you realise we've got to let go? | |
Starlings wheeling round georgian spires, | |
And the fires of grangemouth burn the skies. | |
A lion sleeps in a tenement close, | |
In a country that's tired and deaf to his roar | |
(chorus) | |
They bury a wasteland deep in the wilderness | |
Poison the soil and reap the harvest, | |
Of blind indifference, greed and apathy | |
Sowed way back in our history | |
The fish are few the harbours empty | |
The keels now rot on our oil slicked shores | |
The sheep are gone, the farms deserted | |
We're out of sight and we're out of mind. | |
(chorus) | |
Like our fathers before us, | |
We've eyes for america. | |
Dream of a new life on foreign shores. | |
But wherever we go, we'll always know, | |
That the land we stand on, is never our own. | |
(chorus) |
zuò cí : Boult, Dick, Simmonds | |
dick boult simmonds | |
I saw a blue umbrella in princes street gardens | |
Heading out west for the lothian road | |
An evening news stuffed deep in his pocket | |
Wrapped up in his problems to keep away the cold | |
Grierson' s spirit haunts the dockyards, | |
Where the only men working are on | |
Documentary crews, | |
Shooting film as the lines get longer, | |
As the seams run out, as the oil runs dry. | |
Chorus: hey there laddie, internal exile! | |
When will you realise we' ve got to let go? | |
Hey there lassie, internal exile! | |
When will you realise we' ve got to let go? | |
Starlings wheeling round georgian spires, | |
And the fires of grangemouth burn the skies. | |
A lion sleeps in a tenement close, | |
In a country that' s tired and deaf to his roar | |
chorus | |
They bury a wasteland deep in the wilderness | |
Poison the soil and reap the harvest, | |
Of blind indifference, greed and apathy | |
Sowed way back in our history | |
The fish are few the harbours empty | |
The keels now rot on our oil slicked shores | |
The sheep are gone, the farms deserted | |
We' re out of sight and we' re out of mind. | |
chorus | |
Like our fathers before us, | |
We' ve eyes for america. | |
Dream of a new life on foreign shores. | |
But wherever we go, we' ll always know, | |
That the land we stand on, is never our own. | |
chorus |